


Precious Cargo

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Prompt : Mulder and Scully going to the playground for the first time with Jackson and baby2





	Precious Cargo

Jackson offers to push the pram and Mulder slips his hand around Scully’s, eliciting a small smile that covers her nervousness. Esther hasn’t been sleeping. Their daughter is crankier than a Scully with no caffeine and an expenses report to acquit. 

Jackson tips the pram on its back wheels and races ahead, wheelie-style and making skidding noises. Scully’s pace quickens but Mulder pulls her back, shushes her with an upheld hand and secretly hopes Esther doesn’t mind travelling at warp-speed. She does gurgle from her nest of blankets, so there’s that.

The playground is busy. He sees Scully shrink into her coat. She’ll say it’s too noisy, too stimulating for Esther. But Jackson has already scooped the baby out and is striding to the tyre swing with the spider-web rope inside. 

“Jackson,” Scully says, but his name is whipped away by the shrieks of a group of toddlers chasing each other in loose wellingtons and shiny rain coats. 

Mulder shifts the pram next to a bench and urges Scully to sit. She’s on the edge, feet planted on the softpave and eyes darting back and forth, casing, assessing the risks. 

The nappy bag is stuffed full of useless junk. Or necessities, as Scully calls them. Nappies, creams and lotions, bottles of expressed milk, a full medical kit, a flashlight. A flashlight? He pulls it out and a wave of nostalgia passes through him.

“You’re not going Squatchin, Mulder,” she says, pushing the flashlight back into the bag. 

“Then why d’you pack it?”

She gives him the eye and he lifts the box of baby wipes up. 

“Where’s he going, now? Mulder, where’s… Jackson! What’s he doing?”

Mulder glances at their son. He’s taking Esther up the slide.

“It’s okay, Scully.”

“It’s too high,” she says, standing up now. 

He catches her elbow. “It’s fine, Scully. Let him be.”

“Mulder, the boy can explode people’s heads. He can manifest himself into gargoyles and assassins.”

On the top of the slide, Jackson sits. He waves. Scully emits a quiet squeal as he does so - only one hand wrapped around the baby’s torso.

“If it’s good enough for Michael Jackson…” 

They both watch as Jackson slides, slowly, to the bottom. He’s all lanky legs and oversized runners, he’s all floppy hair and crooked smile. There’s a tug at Mulder’s heart. A gentle pop of pride. From the bag, he pulls out what he was looking for, and guides Scully back to the seat as Jackson takes Esther up for a second trip.

“What’s this?” she says, taking his offering, but not removing her gaze from their children. 

Their children.

“I thought you might like to read while you’re here. I’ll go get us some coffee from the van over there. Maybe a bagel. You wanna bagel, Scully?”

She looks at the book. Moby Dick. He smiles at her soft, snuffling sound, rubs her shoulder. “Okay, Scully?”

From the top of the slide, Jackson hollers out a ‘Sculllaaaaaayyyyy’ as he launches himself and his precious cargo down the slide for a second time.


End file.
